


That's Life

by Skitty_the_Great



Category: Superatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitty_the_Great/pseuds/Skitty_the_Great
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean dreams about Ben, and the life he almost lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Life

Dean knew he was dreaming. He knew it in the way that all waking dreamers know it. What he was seeing wasn't real and, any moment now, he would wake up and it would be gone. A sense of anxiety pervaded the atmosphere as he waited for that inevitable moment. Dream it might be...but that didn't mean he didn't want to stay.

He was wearing a suit, but not his FBI suit. Or rather, it was, but it wasn't. It was the suit he'd worn when hunting with his brother, but it had the feel of something he hadn't donned in quite some time. He sat in a white folding chair on a green lawn, packed entirely too close to the old woman on his left. The chair to his right was empty, but he knew who it belonged to. He didn't have to see her to know she was coming. Maybe her absence was telling. In the way of dreams, he felt her presence and yet knew she would not come. This dream was not about her. It was about someone else.

"Ben Braeden," a faceless voice announced loudly, and Dean glanced instinctively towards it. Ben looked older now. Nearly a man. He wore the cap and gown go a graduate and he strode across a stage that wobbled under his gate towards a forgettable man in a too tight suit. He took a rolled up piece of paper from him and posed in the act of shaking his hand for a sweating photographer in the front row. Then his eyes scanned the crowd. They met Dean's.

Fumbling, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste, Dean stood. He clapped loudly, louder than most parents would, or should, at such a solemn, important ceremony.

"YEAH!" he called out, pumping a fist in the air, and he saw Ben smile.

Time moved forward. Ben was standing in front of him now. His grad cap was missing, his hair looking tousled from wearing it. He grinned in a sheepish, embarrassed sort of way.

"Thanks, Dad," he said in a voice that still held the hint of youth, but also the deeper timbers of manhood.

"Dean, wake up."

Dean jolted awake, reaching for weapons that he already knew he didn't need. Sam leaned over him, his hair a mess, his breath reeking of mouth wash and far too close to his face.

"We've gotta move," he said simply, and Dean responded. Because that's what he did. This was his life, and he lived it the best he could.


End file.
